The Greatest Gift
by Jessiy Landroz
Summary: A small story about Splinter and his sons. Splinter centric [progressing]
1. Chapter 1

Part One:

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It all began like a normal day, or should I say like a normal night.

I returned home with a wealth of resources from my scavenging hunt. It was a fortunate night indeed.

My sons were still up and awake to the late hours of the night, while they awaited my return just as they do every night whenever I am late.

They'd greet me with wide smiles and offers to help me sort what I have gathered, tuck them into their proper place, and then ask if I wanted something to drink or eat after a long night's work. Usually, I decline for being too tired to eat or drink anything in particular, but on some occasions I only ask for something to see their innocent and eager smiles.

Some times they banter who would get me what I need or desire, after a few vocal fights and discussions among each other, and a few wise suggestions by their eldest, they agreed to ask me one by one if I wanted something, and the selected brother will fetch the item I need, instead of arguing among each other when they need to retrieve anything from either my bedroom or the kitchen.

After my return, I'd often take a quick shower and rest at the kitchen with a cup of tea, for an hour or less before it is bedtime.

After a light meal Michelangelo and sometimes Raphael help me prepare, dinner is served and a little later I would tuck them into bed. Sometimes I would tell them a bedtime story, either a fairytale or a memory of my beloved master Yoshi, while some other times I would be much too tired, but would simply stay with them in the bedroom for a while and listen to their chatter, till they drift off to sleep on their own.

I do not stay there for long, and would remain in their bedroom only until they all fall asleep to tuck them in for the night. It might look simple a task to do during some nights, but with four young and energetic eight year olds, they can be quite the handful to tuck in.

Tonight, however, things went a little not as planned.

When I had stepped out of my shower I could not find my robe. I had placed a chair in front of the rest room so they could place their masks and pads before showering, instead of placing them on the toilet seat inside, just so it'd be easier for me to collect them for washing later. I would often place my used robe on the wooden chair's backrest, so I would take it to my room to have it patched up before cleaning, but it was not there.

I looked for it, but I could not find it anywhere near the restroom. I was confused to where it had gone, because I was sure I had left it on the chair outside the restroom.

Could it be that I had misplaced it, or perhaps one of my sons saw and took it? If so, then why?

I thought back and wondered, because the robe was not stained or dirty, but I do recall that during my hunt this evening, I've accidentally missed seeing an old metal bar that the edge of my robe had gotten hooked in, and when I had moved away my garment got torn.

I hoped to get that tear patched and fixed before I turn in for the night, but perhaps one of my sons noticed it and decided to fix it for me? Then it would probably be Michelangelo with the task. Among his brothers, he is the neatest when it comes to sewing things back together. Mostly it comes from his skill with fixing his stuffed toys whenever there are rips or tears in their cushioned bodies.

With that thought in mind, I decided to go look for my youngest son, and hoped he indeed had my missing garment.

With nothing to put on but a fluffy, white towel it covered me from waist to a little over my ankles. I felt uncomfortably bare, but had no other choice at the moment. My fur was still fairly damp and weighty from the shower, but it was not soaked or dripping wet so it was bearable.

After I secured the towel, I set out towards their bedroom and neared my sons joined bedroom, I could hear their murmurs, giggling and shushed whispers while they chattered, but I thought little of it. They often like to chatter and rant about the events of the day and whatnot before bedtime, I let them talk for it sometimes helps them vent out and tire a little faster, to get those thoughts out of their heads, it would earn them a more restful sleep.

Nevertheless, I rapped my knuckles on the door, wordlessly it informed them I will enter the room, and almost suspiciously their chatter came to a sudden halt, silence filled the room. I think I heard a startled gasp as well, but decided not to think of it, though with a perplexed furrow I gripped the handle and slowly opened the door.

I stared for a moment into the softly illuminated bedroom, and I allowed my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, "Good evening, my sons." I greeted quietly and smiled gently, "I can't seem to find my robe, have any of you seen it?"

"Ah!" Michelangelo breathed before he answered timidly, "Um, yeah, it's in your room, sensei."

I blinked once before I arched a questioning brow, "And, if I may ask, how did it get there?" Nervously, the four children shared a glance and I could tell they were trying not to say something. I was tempted to ask, but thought better of it, for then my youngest replied to my question.

"When ya went for the shower, I saw there was a hole so I fixed it." Michelangelo informed.

"Ah, I see. Thank you, my son, I appreciate you doing that." I smiled and nodded in gratitude, "But next time you decide to patch something for me, do let me know of it first, alright?" I requested kindly. I did not want it to sound like I'm scolding him.

A sweet but shy and innocent, sheepish grin flashed on his face, before he gave a firm nod, "I will. No problem, sensei." He replied.

"Thank you." I finished before I looked at the four of them where they shared two beds.

The two beds' frame and wood I found were pretty mismatched. One in two shades of light and dark oak brown, while the other was in a paler shade of yellow and chocolate brown. That was because they were actually four separate beds. Two were smashed and burned and were in poor shape. I guessed there had been a fire in the owner's home, the one who owned the beds, had eaten up the wooden furniture and scorched and almost completely destroyed them, so they had deemed those frames worthless and tossed them out.

With my sons help, we moved the usable pieces one by one down the sewers and carried them home. We improvised by nailing slots of wood on the broken or unsteady parts of the beds, like on the head support and the legs, pushed the two separate beds together and formed one doubled bed. It was big and wide enough for the four of them to lie in and sleep during the night, huddled next to each other if they wanted the physical comfort, or with enough personal space if they didn't want to be latched onto during the night.

It was enough for me to know that they would no longer worry about taking each other's space.

Well, unless Raphael started twisting and turning in restlessness, which happens quite often as of late, ending up taking the blanket and curling into it like a cocoon all to himself. To be honest it worries me, but he would always wake up the next morning and claim to be just fine, that there was nothing wrong. He never was the type to talk much about what bothers him, so I do hope that one day he'll open up to his brothers or I.

Some times it is Michelangelo to sprawls across the bed. Mostly it is if he had a nightmare and latched on to the nearest brother within reach, or in the morning when he decides jumping on the bed would jar them awake, faster than shaking them or nudging them by the shoulder.

Although I've warned him about jumping on the bed, I did not want the supports to break, so he tries not to fall to the temptation.

He did admit that it's more affective, and fun, to wake the heaviest sleeper of them all, namely Raphael, even if it did earn him a literal kick off the bed first thing in the morning.

The only thing I had to worry about was if they were scared during stormy nights, in exception of Raphael who finds thunderstorms quite fascinating, or if they were very cold and didn't have enough sheets and blankets to keep them warm.

Also if one of them wets the bed for some reason, but that usually only accurse when they're having anxiety attacks, and are feeling insecure during dark stormy nights, they all refused to share the stained bed.

Leonardo shifted in his spot on the shared bed, a small frown knotted his brows, "Sensei, did you get hurt tonight?" he questioned, and aroused me from my thoughts.

My brows arched and I was confused at his question, "No, I am fine, Leonardo. Why do you ask?"

"Cause the hole in yer robe was pretty big." Raphael replied, a hint of unease was clear in his voice, "Did you get mugged again?" His brothers may not have noticed it, but his fists twitched and clutched the blanket a little tighter.

To me that was a clear sign that he was suppressing his fears once again.

Raphael had always shown me the potential of becoming a rough and tough-nailed character, some time in the near future when he matures, but already he earned his brothers admiration with his strong physical built, especially for an eight year old. Also, it explained why Michelangelo latches on to him whenever he gets a nightmare, thinking his brother's strength will protect him from the bad dreams.

I recalled a time a few years back, I was still young regarding the changes that had happened to my body, barely more than a few months after the ooze changed us, and my sons were yet too young and were just learning how to speak.

During that time I had put them to bed early and went out scavenging, I had to secure food for to last us a while in spite of the frosty weather. Unfortunately I came across a thug with a knife who wanted to take what I had collected. But thanks to the memories of my beloved master Yoshi, instincts kicked in and I managed to counter his attack by a miracle, I had injured the thug and rendered him immobile, before I escaped to the sewers.

I was slashed on the shoulder, but the injury was not too deep. I returned home and took care of it, but the next morning, my children were frightened and alarmed at the sight of bloodstained clothe that encircled my injury.

They might have been only four years old, if not younger back then, but they acknowledged the seriousness of my injuries, they have been worried since then that I would leave for a scavenging hunt and never come back.

Perhaps it's about time I took them out topside more often, they're old enough to spend more time on the open.

With a soft sigh I sat at the foot of the bed, smiled gently and spoke kindly to sooth their fears and worries, "No, my sons, I did not get attacked." I looked at them one by one with an assuring smile, "I merely got distracted and my robe got hooked to a metal bar, and when I turned to leave I did not notice it and the metallic object tore my robe." I explained simply, sincerely I voiced how it was not an attack at all, but simply a misfortune.

"Really?" Donatello said shyly and a little an unsure.

"Yes, my sons, I'm fine." I assured and to prove it I extended my arm out for them.

Eagerly they almost raced out of bed and struggled with the wrinkled bed sheets, they all scrambled to their feet and into my arms, latched onto my still slightly damp fur and hugged tightly. With a chuckle I held them close and nuzzled them, while I pecked their crowns. I inhaled their scent and treasured the warmth they offered with their small bodies, in spite of their cold-blooded nature as reptiles.

"You smell so nice." Leonardo whispered softly with his snout buried in my chest fur, then giggled as the short tuft of hair tickled him.

"Like fruits! I smell strawberries!" Michelangelo giggled and nuzzled my fur as well.

"I smell grapes, and pineapples!" Donatello exclaimed while he grinned wide.

"Smells like apples to me." Raphael interjected while pressed to my side, but he not nuzzle and his fingers merely sunk in my fur and a tiny, shy and content smile curved on his lips, "But it smells nice anyway." he then agreed.

I stroked their heads and smiled wider as their chatter developed into a conversation about fruits, "Thank you, my sons." I began and gained their attention, "But it is getting late, you should all get back to bed." I suggested.

They didn't want to go to bed yet and argued, but only Michelangelo pleaded sweetly and insisted for five more minutes, before he gave up and then they scurried off and back to bed, they snuggled under the still fairly warm, thick sheets. I tucked them in and we talked a little more, I wished them goodnight, before I exit the room and closed the door.

After I had reached my room I found my robe neatly folded and placed on my small desk, so I unfolded it and gave the patchwork a look. I blinked in surprise when I realized there was now a darker colored piece of patchwork, it replaced the missing piece where the tear was, but it slightly clashed with the color for it was a bit darker and easier to spot.

I knit my brows in confusion, but I remember the robe had ripped only slightly and the piece did not fall off, or did it? If Michelangelo replaced the torn piece that got ripped, then it had either been torn off too badly with loose threads split-out, or he had replaced it because sowing the old piece back in its proper place would have made the garment look funny.

With a negative shake I took off the towel and made sure my fur was dry, discarded it aside to wash it tomorrow, put on the robe and then headed to the kitchen to make a kettle of some green tea.

I meditated for a while longer before I turned in for the night, it had been a long day.

….

Next morning, I woke up early and freshened up and ready for the tasks of the new day.

When I headed into the kitchen to prepare breakfast, but on the way I was greeted by Leonardo, who was the first to wake up earlier than usual. With a drowsy smile we shared a greeting, I continued to the kitchen while he headed to the bathroom. Once freshened up, he joined me in the kitchen and helped me prepare breakfast for his brothers and himself.

Donatello and Raphael and then lastly Michelangelo soon joined us.

After the pleasant meal of breakfast there was a free recess time, before the morning practice sessions began. While I remained in the kitchen to wash the dishes, my sons each went to spend some time in an activity they liked, before it was time for me to call them to the dojo.

Except that today, Raphael had surprisingly offered to help with the dishes.

I looked at him a little startled at first, because he had never offered to help with such a task before. Donatello would offer every now and then, and Michelangelo would offer if he wanted to beg for something in return, while Leonardo offered only if he was confident enough to not end up breaking any dishes, which usually means that I often do them alone.

Although I thanked him for his offer I told him it was not necessary, I could finish them on my own but he insisted with an adorably stubborn frown and pout, and it almost matched his youngest brother's. With a bemused smile I gave in to his stubbornness, allowed him to help me by drying the dishes and setting them in order in the dish tray.

The process was a bit slow at first, because he did not know how to organize them properly. In the beginning he placed them by putting the dishes in a stacked and messed up order, making them clatter noisily when they tilt over. When we were almost done, I realized there was no space for the last of the dishes, because of his disorganized stacking, so I had to reorganize them.

The flat and not so deep dished were set in order first, and then the deeper bowls tucked inside each other to save some space, with the spoons and forks on the other side of the tray, a smaller space that was designed for them.

Once done with the last dishes, I handed him a towel to dry his hands.

"Thank you for helping me, my son." I thanked him, petted his head and then headed to the stove for some tea.

He grinned shyly and peered up at me, but before he attempted to exit the kitchen after the task was done, he asked, "Sensei?"

"Yes, Raphael?" I replied, already I placed the soap and suds stained towel on the counter, I had to rinse them out and let them dry some time later.

He hesitated for a moment, fingered one hand and avoided eye contact, "Um, well…" he glanced away, almost as if he expected one of his siblings to walk in, but after he heard their laughter while they watched the monitor, it assured him they weren't coming. He turned to look at me again a little more confident, "Do your whiskers ever fall off?" he inquired, almost nervously.

I quirked a brow and wondered why he asked such a thing, "Not very often, why?" I asked, curious to what was on his mind. He squirmed a bit and a brief glint of disappointment shone on his features. "Is something the matter, my son?" I encouraged him to tell me, and wondered if there was something brothering him but he was too shy to talk about it.

"No, it's nothing." He gave a forced, small smile and slightly shook his head. He peered up at me with a sweet smile, before it grew into a huge grin, and then his small body raced out of the kitchen.

I watched him dash out in puzzlement, so with a fist on my hip I stroked my chin with the other, absently I groomed the small tuft of hair on my chin, and then fingered my long whiskers. I felt clueless to his peculiar question regarding them, it made no sense to me.

'_I wonder what that boy is up to._' I thought to myself.

Soon the voices of his brothers whilst they shouted in excitement at the monitor, told me they were watching one of their favorite early morning cartoons. Their laughter bubbled and bloomed in the lair, and it brought a smile to my face.

It was enough to make me shrug off Raphael's question. It will probably answer itself in due time.

Raphael wasn't acting too strangely, it's not the first time for him to act this way.

Often he would start to ask me something, only to change his mind before he would shrug it off, and then run off to do some other thing or another. Perhaps he wanted to discuss something with me, but then changed his mind, or perhaps he just didn't know how to express or word it? Would it have anything to do with last night when they thought I was injured?

No, I don't think that was quite it for one he did not look distressed or scared, just a little inquisitive.

He always did have trouble voicing out his problems, though.

Among his three brothers, Raphael is the only one to mostly keep his unconfident and negative feelings held inside, he would never express them unless he's having a terrible tantrum, when they pile atop each other and pressure him too much. I suspect they're the source of his temper, but I also know forcing him to tell me how he feels would only bring negative, if not disastrous results.

While Donatello keeps his anger bottled in tight, Michelangelo harbors his sadness to himself, he would hide it under fake laughter or pranks on his brothers, but both would only last a while before their discomfort overrides them, and when they burst out it is never a good thing. Leonardo however is a bit more open regarding his feelings with his brothers most of the time, unless he doesn't feel like sharing and would come to me when he needs to talk, or just for the sake of having a friendly ear.

I shrugged the thought of a hidden problem aside. If my temperamental son had something to say in spite of his reluctance, he knows he can always come to me. He will come when he's ready and I will not force him to talk.

He might be stubborn, but he knows when he needs to vent out his problems with words or complaints.

After that, I busied myself with organizing the kitchen and made sure everything was neatly in place, before I set about preparing some light snacks for them to have after lunch. I placed them in the small fridge to cool, which Donatello had managed to make work so conveniently, and to be honest with myself, I'd have no idea what our life would have been like, if it had not been for his fetish with technology.

Perhaps I should bake a pie for them today, they deserve something special.

With that in mind I decided to bake it for tonight, so I searched through the cupboards to secure the needed ingredients.

A short while later I called them to the dojo, for it was time for their morning practice.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: nothing much, reposted the chapter with a few spelling and grammar tweaks, but it's still the same…


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two:

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After lunch Leonardo stayed in the dojo, because he wanted to train a little more on today's new move. His brothers on the other hand were occupied elsewhere, claiming to want to do something fun instead.

Donatello set about dismantling a small toy car with remote control I brought with me yesterday, it was a good find.

Michelangelo impatiently practiced his reading with a new comic I found during my hunt as well. But the comic was unfortunately written in a language other than English. Spanish or Latin, I think Donatello claimed it to be, as he was able to identify a few words. But Michelangelo did not care for the language barrier, to him a comic is a comic no matter what language it's written in, he nevertheless liked the pictures even if he didn't fully understand the narrative word bubbles that explained the scenes.

Raphael however was busy reading; absently he fiddled with the dog-ears of a small booklet I salvaged as well. He had trouble reading a few words; he did not know nor fully understand what they meant. If I remember correctly from the brief glance I took at it, it saw that it was about the Native Americans and how they lived around the times of the old west, before the so-called cowboys arrived and chased them out, and long before the rush of technology.

Although a heavy silence lingered while I meditated in the dojo, it was pleasant nonetheless.

I settled on an old tatami mat and meditated, the smell of incense and the steam of green tea from the tea kittle near me were calming. I drifted off into the astral plane, but kept my ears perked for my children as they moved about in their activities. There was a shifting presence and it stood before me, the aura was soft and fluttering, gentle, a little warm and with a cool yet excited touch.

It was the heart of a child. I recognized who it belonged to and smiled, "Yes, Leonardo?" I addressed him, eyes closed.

"Uh- ?" he was so startled, he flinched at my voice, '_How does he **do** that?_' he muttered under his breath, more a question to himself then to me. He straightened up and cleared his throat, "Ano, Sensei?" he started nervously, timidly, "Can- _may_ I ask you a question?"

I opened my eyes to lock eyes with his innocently wide and intelligent gaze, then smiled a little wider and nodded whereas I petted the tatami mat and offered a seat for him to take besides me. "Of course you may, but I feel that there is a lot on your mind, correct?" I arched a knowing brow, "Why don't you sit down?"

With dazzled and encouraged smile, he nodded enthusiastically before he caught himself, humbly he composed himself before he settled down. He scooted a little closer to me than expected, eyes in deep brown they peered at me with suppressed excitement. I placed my hand on his head and he grinned shyly at the touch. I smiled as I felt the fabric of his soft blue mask, it covered his head and made his soft shade of basic green skin and those chocolate brown eyes look much deeper.

"Sensei, what's it like topside?" he said shyly, and at my arched brows he hastened to continue, "I mean, I know we're not supposed to go topside, cause we're not supposed to be seen, and humans don't understand us and would be afraid of us, but-" he hesitated, fidgeting in his seat, "um, can we go out sometime?" he requested quietly, he looked a little more nervous and apprehensive, "Please?"

I furrowed with a small smile, I understood his curiosity of the outside world.

Any child seven years of age would wonder what the outside world is like.

As much as I wish to protect them from the world topside, I knew I could never keep them down here forever. There will be a time where they will have to venture out into the open and expose themselves to the humans.

I dearly hope that will not happen for a very, very long time.

"I understand, Leonardo." I stroked his head and he continued to peer up at me with his deep brown eyes, "It had been a very long time since we had last gone out topside, so perhaps it is time for us to do so." I smiled.

"Really?" he eagerly bounced on his knees.

I chuckled, the excited grin that brightened his features brought a smile to my face, also a beat and flutter to my heart, "Yes, but maybe not tonight. I still need to prepare many things for it, so it might be another few days before we can venture to the outside," I told and stroked him gently, before I rested my hand on his shell, "and the weather is a little chilly, so I will have to get your winter clothes out of storage and have them cleaned first."

"Can I help?" he offered excitedly, he barely contained himself and bounced on his knees again.

"Yes, you may help me, Leonardo." I nodded, answering.

With a cheer, hug and kiss on the cheek, he almost magically popped up to his feet and with a quick bow; he bolted out like a blaze of green thunder to inform his brothers of our possible day, or night out. I chuckled as his energized squeals and cried for his brothers by name. His excitement touched me, it tickled and made my senses pulse with anticipation for this event as well.

Even from the dojo, I could hear them squeal in cry in exhilaration and delight after he delivered the news. Soon they all rushed back into the dojo to confirm if I indeed allowed them a day out. They excitedly asked about the when and where, and what they'll be having. Once sure that there will be a picnic of sorts during one of the upcoming days, they all rushed to their bedroom to pull out the stored winter gear, they hastily wanted it ready as soon as possible, they didn't even wait for me to follow.

I laughed as their enthusiasm gave me a large boost of energy. After I blew out the burning flames of the incense, I picked up the tea kettle and carried it back to the kitchen. Once I set it aside and away from reach on the counter, I followed them to the bedroom.

I've learned that leaving the tray on the kitchen table with four, overly excited children running around is not a very good idea, especially if one of them accidentally stubs a toe to the table and unintentionally ends up making the kettle fall off the table, shattering into pieces.

I entered the bedroom and sighed inwardly at the sight of the, literally, torn off duck tape and cardboard box lids on the floor, the scattered winter clothes already spilled on the floor.

Each child held a piece and questioned who it had belonged to, they did not want to claim another brother's item.

I sorted out the clothes they had pulled out and separated what they will need, from those that will have to be stored in new boxes, because they were either unfitting for being too small, dirty or moth eaten.

Since these clothes were from last year, they were smaller in size because my little boys had grown bigger. I will need to find them some new fitting clothes soon, they are growing bigger and older and soon they will outgrow even these clothes we have right now.

I don't want them wondering topside without proper outfits to keep them warm.

With the clothes picked and set aside to be washed, they happily helped me get them ready.

As the hours wore on they turned into days and the days into weeks. On a nice and cool night, I deemed it fitting for our little family outing. With loud cries and cheers, they grew more and more impatient with the upcoming event. Food and drinks were readied in a small, patched basket. Their clothes were cleaned and dried, they fit them snugly and kept them warm.

Near sunset we moved out of the sewers and towards the park.

I chose a small pond near an old, pretty much forgotten and secluded area near an abandoned pumping station. As curious as my children were, compared to human children at their age, they were not permitted to explore the building no matter how much they pleaded. I did not want them lost in there, not to mention we did not if there were any threats or possible occupants inside.

We remained at the pond where it was safe.

We chattered happily and I settled on the picnic blanket, I told them stories a few stories about my beloved master Yoshi, but later they just got up to play, so I simply watched them.

Dressed in thick, tight yet comfortable clothes that kept their energetic speedy bodies warm, I admired their blossoming youth while I settled next to our picnic basket while I sipped green tea and complemented the marvelous evening scenery.

They were so young and innocent; it would be so hard to accept watching them grow up and separate, to take their own path in life once their older and could hold their own.

Leonardo was shy and quiet but had the traits of a skilled warrior and a tactical mind, he will make a wonderful leader. He will take good care of his siblings after I'm gone.

Raphael is just as fierce and just as strong, the only thing that unbalances him is that temper. Some times he is so pent up emotionally he doesn't know how to vent them out, he resolves into using physical damage to relive the discomforts.

Donatello is quiet and wise, he's just like Leonardo and would make a worthy leader, but his reluctance to fight and interest in anything other than ninjutsu tells me it would be better not to push him into mastering the art of ninjutsu, or else I would make a reverse affect and he will end up hating it.

Michelangelo on the other hand, is always happy and cheerful and would so anything for his brothers. Also, as Raphael would describe him, he is a troublesome imp with a fetish to get himself beaten up for silly pranks that backfire. He adores ninjutsu and considers it a game, and trains only when the session we're having interests him. He's more interested in the jumping and kicking back flips, than the defensive battle maneuvers.

I chuckled, my youngest is the most innocent one of all. I pray that he will still hold on to that charming character when he's older, it'll help his brothers unwind in times of need. No matter how old they become, or if they grow to be twice bigger than me for that matter, I don't think I'll ever stop seeing them as the four little turtles I had gathered in a can and took to my burrow.

Panting with a huge grin on his face, Donatello flopped onto his shell next to me and tried to catch his breath, a giggle slipped through his lips. He had just finished a jog with his brothers, they raced across a path Michelangelo created to see who was the fastest, or more to see if anyone could beat him when it comes to speed. Donatello came in second place, Leonardo and Raphael tied at third, while their youngest kin taunted them and accused them of, ironically, being as slow as turtles, he had to prove just how fast he was by avoiding their angry fists.

"Sensei?" Donatello spoke softly, he peered at me with his throat arched, his head upside down, "Why do stars sparkle at night, but not come out at day?" he furrowed, puzzled.

I smiled and felt a little embarrassed, I didn't know the full answer to such a question. I only knew very little from what I gathered visually through the monitors in those human shops, and audibly though the radios on the streets. I had a book about it back home, but I barely understood much, because most of those words were very hard for me to understand.

"I believe it is because their light does not par with the brightness of the sun, Donatello." I told him at first, as I tried to remember what I have read in the book, but only very little came to mind, it wasn't very helpful, "The stars get their light from the moon, which reflects the light from the sun, but the sun emits its own light, that is why it is so much brighter than the moon and stars."

"The moon has a reflective surface? You mean like glass?" he asked excitedly and tilted his chin slightly, before he rolled over on his chest, arms folded her sunk his head between his shoulders, he propped his elbows on the ground.

"No, it's not like glass." I replied, and thought about it a little more, but nothing useful resurfaced, so with a frustrated sigh, I smiled a little uneasily, "I don't know how to explain it, my son." I admitted, embarrassed at my lack of information, "But I believe there is a book back home that would explain it better." I told, I didn't know how to explain such things to him.

"Oh." He blinked once, twice and then flashed me a smile, "Okay." he pushed up and sat upright on his buckled knees. He half paid attention to his three brothers as they dashed past us.

I watched as Michelangelo taunted his two brothers, calling them a crab and snail. Leonardo was agitated and upset at the naming, whereas Raphael was ready to beat his brother into a muddy mess. Another frustrated sigh escaped my lips. Raphael dearly needs to control that flaring temper, it's already proving to be a little too violent against his brothers, especially his youngest.

What if he unintentionally hurt one of them?

I did not want to see them hurt, whether by the outside world or each other. I had to call for them and halted their little chase to remind them that we need to be discreet, or else this little outing will be canceled. They outwardly complained and whined, wanting to stay much longer. I merely warned them if they did not behave, we will head back home for dinner, have no desert and will be sent to bed, with extra lessons the next day.

They quickly sobered up their complaints.

Except Leonardo, he didn't seem to mind such procedures, but didn't voice it out.

We still had time to spend together in friendly activities, before they grew tired and was time to head home.

I allowed them to take a little look around while I repacked out belongings, but not stray too far off. I requested for Leonardo and Donatello to help me ready ourselves for the trip home. Raphael and Michelangelo, through they still bantered about the crab naming, my youngest still feared a pummeling from his grouchiest brother, yet tagged along and they ventured off together to the nearby forest.

While Michelangelo gathered some colorful feathers, they had probably fallen from the owls or day birds prior our arrival, in the mean time Raphael collected some sorts of vein-like roots and reeds, he had dug them out and dirtied his hands, sleeves and the collar of his sweat pants and messed knees with splotches of dirt. He dug those roots out of the dirt by hand and messed up his clothes.

When I asked Raphael why he obtained such things, he simply grinned and didn't answer. I decided not to ask while I watched him clean the dirt off the roots, he used the pond waters to remove the grime, before he stuffed them into his belt and claimed to want to keep them.

I was puzzled why he needed the roots for, I was very tempted to demand an answer, but figured he will tell me sooner or later.

With our things gathered, we headed home.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: We need more Splinter, or Father/Son fluff, seriously!


End file.
